


Static

by draculard



Category: Ringu | The Ring - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Ghost Kissing, If a decades-old ghost counts as underage, Necrophilia, Nonconsensual Makeouts, Parasites, Partial Mind Control, Underage - Freeform, Worms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 10:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18179594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Rachel finds herself in an empty field, facing a familiar stone well.





	Static

Rachel knows where she is from the cold wind whistling through the grass, from the grey sky above her, from the feeling of icy dread in her chest. When she turns and sees the stone well across the field, it comes as no surprise. She was always meant to come back here. She feels it crawling beneath her skin — the video, the foul-smelling water, the feeling of Samara’s hair tangled in her hands. It’s always there with her, lurking behind her eyelids when she sleeps.

How did she get here? Her feet move without her permission, carrying her over the uneven ground. She moves endlessly toward the well, unable to stop herself, unable to close her eyes or turn away.

She thinks if she sees the girl climbing out of that well, it will drive her mad. But when Samara’s dark head appears, her fingers broken and bloody, scrabbling for purchase on the stones — Rachel remains terribly sane. She stops walking only when her bare feet brush the slimy, moss-covered wall of the well.

Her hands rest on the stones, raw from the cold wind. Her skin is mere inches away from Samara’s fingers; the blood oozing from Samara’s ragged nail-beds looks black, like an oil slick. Rachel wants to scream, but she cannot open her mouth. She wants to close her eyes, but she can’t even blink.

With an almighty heave, Samara pulls herself up onto the wall. Hair hangs like a dark curtain over her face, dripping scummy, sulfur-smelling water onto Rachel’s hands. Rachel tries to pull away, but her muscles won’t move. She stands there, frozen, as Samara’s fingers crawl over her hands, up her arms. Wet, rotting skin sloughs off Samara as she moves, exposing the smooth, unsullied dermis underneath. The wind dries it onto Rachel’s arms.

The smell of decay and noxious gas invades Rachel’s nostrils and grabs hold of her brain. It makes her head ache and her eyes sting, but there’s nothing she can do to escape it. She sees black water bugs picking their way through Samara’s hair, skittering over her collar bones and down into her dress. Involuntarily, Rachel gasps, and that’s when the wind lifts Samara’s hair away from her face to reveal her yellow, jaundiced eyes.

 _Rachel_.

Samara’s mouth doesn’t move; her voice is faint. It seems to belong more to the cold wind than it does to the dead girl before Rachel. She feels skeletal fingers digging into her shoulders, pulling her closer.

 _Rachel_.

And then Samara’s cracked lips open. Her gums have turned brown, writhing with parasites that squirm away from the light, disappearing between the cracks in Samara’s teeth. Her tongue has rotted away; her mouth is filled with open sores, oozing a clear, bitter-smelling pus.

Rachel can’t flinch. She can’t run away; she can’t hide; she can’t even close her eyes. Her mouth is open wide, chest heaving as she gasps for air. Static runs from Samara’s fingers, into Rachel’s veins. Her blood itself seems to vibrate, to cry for mercy, for release. The static buzzes over her skin until it reaches her eyes, turning everything before her grey.

When Samara’s lips find hers, they spread a wet chill throughout Rachel’s entire body. The static stops. A feeling like ice water pounds against her head and then down to her toes, soaking her clothes. Rachel shakes violently, but she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t even scream.

She kisses Samara back.


End file.
